


Don't Hold Your Breath

by Dreamnorn



Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Brick has asthma, Established Relationship, F/M, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, I tried and sometimes failed to do research, I'm pretty happy with the result!, Jo has nosocomephobia, but the point is that I tried, there are several headcanons in this fic, though for ease of reading I refer to it as hospital anxiety throughout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 03:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamnorn/pseuds/Dreamnorn
Summary: In which Jo is stuck in the waiting room after Brick has a severe asthma attack.





	Don't Hold Your Breath

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot is a gift for carlitagt on tumblr! She drew me an adorable piece of Jock fanart (link at the bottom of these notes) and I wanted to write her something in return! After reaching out to each other, here were the details of her request:
> 
> "It's a hospital scene. Brick gets pretty injured or sick. They go quickly to the ER, and Jo stays in the waiting room."
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> (( The Fanart: http://carlitagt.tumblr.com/post/177398922826/youre-not-getting-away-from-this-soldier-so-i ))

Jo gripped the base of her chair as she tried to steady her breathing. The wooden frame refused to give, even though the upholstery depressed against her thumb. Not that this was enough to distract her; the fact that she was in a hospital waiting room was all too present, too clear at the forefront of her consciousness. Her eyes darted around, straining for something of stimulus, something to pull her attention, or at least something of color -- anything to focus on amidst the sterile white, beige, and gray.

Well, anything besides what the hell just happened to her boyfriend.

The memory was all-too-recent. It was forged less than an hour ago, but Jo hardly believed it happened. She might not have had the emotional distance to realize it, but it was the one thing that -- in the moment -- was even worse than her hospital anxiety.

Brick had a severe asthma attack, and was unconscious from hypoxia.

{*}

She hadn’t been allowed in the ambulance with him; apparently you had to be married to hitch a ride when your partner was in critical condition. Jo might have been outraged if she were in any position to argue, but when your significant other needs to be rushed to the emergency room due to lack of oxygen -- which people kind of need to live -- finding time to complain is difficult. In Jo’s case, it was impossible.

As the ambulance left with Brick, Jo just about launched herself into the driver’s seat of her old rustbucket of a sedan. She jammed her key in the ignition, glowering as the car stuttered before it started. _I’ll just have to drive separately,_ she thought. _Check in. Wait. Meet him. Make sure he’s alive. Snog him if he is. Then throttle him._

She didn’t know what she’d do if he wasn’t.

In an objective sense, the drive was mercifully short; she and Brick only lived ten minutes from the nearest hospital. But to Jo, it felt like an infuriating eternity. After all, she wouldn’t be able to get an update on him until she arrived. She wouldn’t know if there would be any hope or if she should start investing in a camo-colored coffin.

Jo may or may not have driven over the speed limit. She couldn’t have cared less.

{*}

In the waiting room, Jo tried counting the floor tiles. There were fifty whole ones and sixteen that were cut to fit to the dimensions of the room. Then she tried counting the panels on the ceiling. This took even less time; there were only fifteen whole ones and nine partials. With that done, she tried counting chairs. Eleven in the waiting room -- or twelve, maybe, if you counted the office chair the secretary was using.

She ran out of things to count faster than she hoped. Jo looked around, bit her lip, and fidgeted. No sign of anyone with an update.

A moment later, Jo patted her pants’ pockets, searching for her phone. After a few tense seconds, she realized her panicked self had just enough foresight to bring her wallet and driver’s license, but not enough to remember her cell. Jo didn’t play app games, but if she had her phone, she could have at least plugged in to health and fitness podcasts or some of her favorite music. She could have listened to something that might have helped her close her eyes and tune out her runaway thoughts. Most importantly, it might have helped filter the stimulus and the memory and everything else that proved too much to process.

Her eyes flicked to the clock. It hadn’t even been a minute since she last checked the time. Still no sign of anyone with an update.

The sound of a door closing made Jo jolt -- something which might have embarrassed her if she had the emotional wherewithal for it. As it was, her gaze locked onto the door leading into a staff-only room behind the reception. The secretary had left, and who knew when he’d come back and reintroduce the faint sounds of typing into the ambiance?

With the room quieter than before, Jo felt her thoughts grow louder in cruel compensation. She growled in frustration and clutched her chair’s frame until the wood creaked under the force. There was no sign of anyone at all.

{*}

Jo not being able to join Brick on the ambulance was bad enough, but she figured things would look up from there. She would ask the receptionist for his status, his room, the deets, and then she’d tear like thunder over there to wait. It sounded easy enough. Her hospital anxiety would still be agitated, sure, but at least Jo would be there for Brick, right?

Apparently not.

“What do you _mean,_ you can’t tell me more?”

“I’m very sorry, miss,” the secretary swallowed. “I’ll inform the ER nurses that you’re here for Mr. McArthur. I’m sure they’ll get in contact with you soon.”

Jo heard him, but wasn’t in the right mind to listen. “You mean to tell me that I can’t even know if Brick is still alive?”

“I wish I could tell you,” he said, his brow furrowed sympathetically, “but -- I’m sorry -- I’m just the receptionist. I don’t get live updates on the status of any patient. Even if I did, I’d have to comply with patient privacy laws because personal health information is confidential. If Mr. McArthur stabilizes, I’m sure one of the nurses will reach out to you provided he gives explicit permission.”

Jo knew Brick would if he could -- that didn’t bother her. What bothered her was that _if._ Her heart twisted in her ribcage, and her voice went low and quiet. “What if he doesn’t stabilize?”

There was a pause.

“…You may still hear from them soon. I estimate within the hour for asthma-induced hypoxia. I’m so sorry.” The room went quiet again until he cleared his throat. “You might want to take a seat.”

{*}

Yeah. Soon. That was a laugh.

Five minutes and nothing. Ten minutes and nothing. Fifteen minutes? Nothing. Really, this whole waiting thing was a whole lot of nothing and Jo could barely take it. She was stalled and trapped and her only company was her scattered thoughts.

She felt so angry. So powerless. So nauseous with worry.

With little in the outside world to distract her, the clamoring of Jo’s fears and memories took its place in her consciousness, wrestling her hospital anxiety into submission. These thoughts and images had crossed her mind before, but in Jo’s haste, they didn’t have time to sink in. Now Jo had nothing but time. And boy, did this hurt way more than any athletic injury she’d ever felt in all her years of fitness.

Brick could have died. In fact, Brick could still die. As far as she knew, he _was_  dying and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Or maybe he was already dead, and passing out by choking on his own airways would have been the last thing Jo’s stupid, sweet, precious cadet ever experienced. He might never start his own clothing line or join the military or see the ending of his favorite show. He might never complete a marathon or watch a meteor shower or take a vacation to Niagara Falls.

And Jo? She might never see his smile again; hear his laughter again; lace fingers with him again; listen to him talk about designer clothes again; race around the block with him again; be his spotter again; tell jokes with him again; spar with him again; hug him again; kiss him again; show him in her own way how much she loves him again….

Jo gripped the chair’s frame so hard, it started cracking. No. Nuh-uh. This hour of insanity would _not_ be her last memories of Brick. That couldn’t be happening. That wasn’t fucking happening.

…Was it?

{*}

Brick having exercise-induced asthma was no secret. Jo had a feeling ever since she met him years ago when they were middle-teen messes competing on _Total Drama;_ it only made sense, what with his breathlessness whenever he finished a jog. But Jo didn’t learn how bad it was until after they started dating. As it turned out, he had to use an inhaler every time before exercising. Given the intensity of their workouts and how his asthma attacks could get even after taking a puff, it made sense.

Several years ago, back before they were dating, Jo would remind (aka: playfully order) Brick to use his inhaler every time before they exercised together. Eventually Jo dropped the habit because Brick would have always done it before she could say anything. It occurred to Jo that she might have been making herself look like a nag who wouldn’t stop undermining her friends and their ability to remember things by themselves. Brick never said anything about it -- hell, he might have thought it was cute, for all she knew -- but Jo figured that if she were in his place, the regular reminders would annoy her. After all, it was clearly an established routine, and Brick cared about his health as much as she did. She could trust him to recall these things. If he got out of this mess alive, Jo pretty much still would. This experience was horrific, but should it invalidate the literal years he remembered perfectly? Probably not.

That said, after watching her boyfriend collapse in a rasping heap on the ground today, Jo knew that -- if all went well -- she would make it a point to remind him to take a puff every once in a while. _Especially_ on busy mornings when certain parties seem _distracted._

“Okay, spill,” Jo had grunted after she was greeted by a chipper cadet who -- for some reason -- dipped her like a princess before kissing her good morning. At the time, Brick was beaming like he won the lottery and his hands were shaking with undisguised excitement. It was way cuter than Jo would have ever admitted. She also would have never admitted that she was struggling to ignore the fact that her face was beyond red as she spoke. “What’s going on, big guy?”

“Oh, nothing much,” he hummed, patting her on the back and whisking inside her apartment. The statement was about as convincing as Lightning saying he’d be content with second place.

“Uh-huh.” Jo quirked her brow and smirked as she kept pace with him. “That’s an awfully happy ‘nothing,’ then.”

Brick chuckled. “It sure is!”

Jo had kept pressing for details, but Brick wouldn’t relent. Something was clearly up, but he was content to keep it a surprise. In time, Jo became just as distracted, wondering what in the world was going on with her ridiculous, adorable, excited boyfriend.

It didn’t cross Jo’s mind to ask him if he’d used his inhaler before beginning their rigorous routine.

His attack started with wheezing, followed by coughing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then Brick got severely dizzy and confused and his breathing grew rougher and rougher until -- all of a sudden -- it made no sound at all. She had already called 911 by then, but when she checked back, Brick’s face was blue and his whole body was drenched with cold sweat. Since he could no longer attempt it himself, Jo rooted through his gym bag, freaking out, telling Brick to stay with her as she tried and failed to find his inhaler. It wouldn’t be much longer before he passed out and the paramedics arrived.

The juxtaposition was brutal, and the images wouldn’t leave. She had a feeling, even if everything turned out okay, that they would never fade entirely. It was terrifying to see just how quickly things can take a turn for the worse.

All Jo could do now was wait and hope they would take a turn for the better.

{*}

Jo jumped out of her skin when a nurse finally called her.

She released the frame of the chair and stumbled forward, hastily dusting off her tracksuit with a reflexive, nervous flick of her wrist. The moment was finally upon her, and Jo realized a little too late that she hadn’t prepared herself for it. Not that it mattered. Her worry and fear for Brick were too strong, and her words tumbled out before she could think anything through.

“Yeah, Jo, that’s me, hi,” she panted. “Is Brick okay?”

The nurse smiled. “I’m happy to announce that he’s going to be fine.”

Was it possible to be relieved and panicked at the same time? Jo might have just invented a new emotion. On one hand, she wanted to throw up her fists in victory and whoop because -- holy shit -- Brick would live; but on the other, her adrenaline-and-anxiety-fueled body made her blurt, “You mean he’s not fine yet?”

Before Jo could even process the sheer stupidity she just spewed, the nurse held up a hand. “Oh, no, it’s not like that, miss. It’s just, as a precaution, Mr. McArthur should stay here for a few more hours. We want to monitor his breathing in the case of another attack. Try not to worry, though. We intubated him and administered a long-acting bronchodilator--.”

As the nurse spoke, Jo took a shaky breath, trying to settle her whirling thoughts and emotions. The medical jargon was too much right now; before she could stop herself, she interrupted. “In English?”

Fortunately, the nurse didn’t seem to take any offense to the request. She smiled. “We hooked him up to a tube to help him breathe and gave him medicine to open his airways. Don’t worry; the tube has been removed and Mr. McArthur seems stable apart from occasional light coughing fits. If you’d like to see him, he’s in room--.”

“Just take me there.” Jo took a deep breath, in and out, as she tried to control herself. “…Ma’am. Please.”

The nurse obliged. The walk over was a blur, a fog which felt like hundreds of years and no time at all. Jo had to see Brick for everything to sink in -- that much was clear -- but she could finally feel the news hit her. He was going to be okay. He was going to live.

So what was the first thing Jo did when she finally saw Brick again? Of course, the only sensible thing to do was fling herself at him with all her might. With her peripheral senses, she saw the doctor jolt and heard her say something -- probably telling her to get off of Brick or whatever -- but Jo neither listened nor cared.

“Fucking _hell,”_ she shuddered, tears pricking at her eyes as she gave him the biggest bear hug of his life. “You’re so damn lucky to be alive.”

Brick coughed a little at the forceful embrace. The sound gave Jo a stab of fear; she loosened her grip immediately. But, to her shaky relief, the coughing stopped after another moment. Brick sat up slowly -- carefully -- and gave Jo a tiny smile that made her limbs weak. Then he returned the hug. As he clung to her and nestled his face against the crook of her neck, Jo melted under his touch. “Aww, Jo,” he murmured, and even though she couldn’t see his expression, she could tell from his voice that he was just as relieved as her. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about this.”

Jo could have easily stayed in that hug forever if it weren’t for the precipitate of her panic; if her feelings were hard to control before, they weren’t getting any easier now. She growled, tugging his ear just enough to hurt. “Not as sorry as you’re going to be! I just spent a goddamn eternity in sterile hell worrying about losing your dumb ass!”

“Miss, please,” the doctor interjected. “You were out there for less than an hour.”

 _“An eternity,”_ Jo wheezed.

Thankfully, after having been together for so long, Jo knew that Brick 1) remembered that she had hospital anxiety and would take that into account; and 2) he would most likely tell that this explosion was a result of concern more so than rage. He hushed Jo, rubbing her upper back soothingly and tilting his face up to kiss her cheek. “And you were so brave to stay here and endure it,” he murmured with a soft, loving smile. “My hero.”

Jo’s face turned bright red. “Flattery won’t get you out of this, soldier!” she sputtered, pulling back and rubbing her cheek, hoping against hope that her heart would stop pounding. “No more beating around the bush. Spit it out, maggot. What the fuck distracted you so badly that you forgot to take precautions for your _life?”_

Brick looked for a second like he was about to protest, but when Jo sent him a withering glare, she saw him visibly (and smartly) reconsider. He pulled back a bit, sighed past a sheepish pout, and started fishing in his pants pocket. “…Well, this really wasn’t how I hoped this would go, but after what happened… I’d say there’s no time like the present. Right, ma’am?”

She watched closely as he pulled out a small velvet box. Her pounding heart stopped. “Oh my god.”

“I would kneel right now if I were allowed to get off this hospital bed,” Brick disclaimed with an anxious chuckle. He held the box up in his trembling hands. “I hope you don’t mind that I can’t.”

Jo clasped a hand to her mouth. As if she didn’t feel enough of an adrenaline rush today -- her body practically vibrated with excitement, shock, and awe. Blood rushed to every corner except the left side of her brain; the right was too overwhelmed with the freight of her feelings to back them up with words. “Oh my _god?”_

Brick chuckled again, fidgeting cutely as he sat up straighter. He stilled for half a second as he gulped, his face turning a soft shade of pink. Then he finally -- finally -- opened the lid. Nestled in a silky blanket was a golden ring featuring a small, square-cut amethyst. It shimmered under the bright white light of the hospital room, but as far as Jo was concerned, the hospital no longer mattered. She gasped audibly through her fingers.

“Jo,” Brick murmured, smiling broadly, gentle and nervous. “Will you marry me?”

The doctor and nurse awwed at the proposal, but once again, Jo didn’t hear them.

She grabbed Brick by the shirt collar and yanked him towards her face so that they were nose-to-nose. “Holy shit, Brick,” Jo laughed, her head swimming with a sudden, tangible insurgence of joy. “Like you even had to ask! You’re _mine,_ private.”

With that, she planted a chaste, affirmative kiss to his lips. It lasted only a few seconds, but the moment they touched, she felt him kiss her back and she practically purred with pleasure. The familiar sensation of his hands over hers, combined with the alien but amazing feeling of the metal band being slipped onto her ring finger, was so dizzying and happy and surreal after his near-death experience that Jo knew -- now more than ever -- that she’d never forget it.

As Jo leaned against her boyfriend’s -- no, _fiance’s_ \-- warm chest, comfortable and awestruck and admiring the engagement ring, she felt Brick start to move. She tilted her head to look at him, only for Brick to lean in and give her another chaste kiss that made her heart skip. “So…” he began tentatively, offering Jo a wry smile as he nuzzled his nose against hers. “You’re _not_ mad at me for forgetting to use my inhaler?”

Jo smirked, reached her hand up, caressed his cheek, then gave him another swift tug to the ear. “Don’t hold your breath, Brickhouse.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, I've never quite written anything like this before. I tried doing a lot of research on Canadian medical procedures, but -- being a resident of a different country -- some information was harder to find. There's a fair amount of speculation in this fic, so if you're a Canadian reading this with knowledge on how these procedures actually work 1) I'm sorry about any inaccuracies and 2) please feel free to educate me on the stuff I got wrong! I'd love to learn!
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoyed the fanfiction! I'm a sucker for happy endings.


End file.
